She pointed back the way they’d come. “South and east. That way and that way. Doon thinks there’s lots of scared people that way. And lots more that way, of course. North. That’s the bulk of the fighting.”

Toward Prancer’s group, with the fighting.

“If they’re civilians and they’re staying out of the way, we can decide what to do with them later. We leave them alone for now.”

“I hope we leave them alone for good,” Foil said.

“They’re Fallen,” Snag said. “Civilian doesn’t mean innocent.”

“You know our terms for helping,” Foil said.

“I do,” he said. And I know Tattletale’s are different. “Don’t dawdle.”

“Not dawdling,” Bitch said, her own voice becoming a growl.

“Snag, man,” Biter said. “Not worth it. I’m biased, but these guys have some practice. Let them do their thing.”

Bitch spoke as if Biter hadn’t said anything. “I’m covering our rear. Against this many dangers, we can’t get surrounded and we can’t get caught off guard. Doon, nose.”

The mutant dog pressed its nose to the dirt. It sniffed, and it huffed out a breath. The other dog raised its head and brought one leg up, the joint pointing forward.

“Good girl. Show me,” Bitch said.

Snag raised one arm as the Undersiders went ahead, and slapped a large mechanical hand against the forearm. Gripping the arm, he rotated it until words lit up along the length.

“Love Lost. Cradle. I’m at point B. Points A, C, and O, roughly, have fighting, with H being the focus. A and O might be civilian clusters. Clearing B at Undersider suggestion, will move to H.”

“Cradle here,” Cradle’s voice was distorted by the makeshift transmitter. Snag raised a hand to get a better reception. Cradle’s voice came through clearer. “No sign of him. Fighting’s bad. Prancer won’t commit with this much gunfire.”

“They have to run out sometime,” Snag said. There was a series of two beeps, and he rotated his arm until a display came up. The map, with points marked out.

Love Lost had made her reply. She’d found Fallen, further south.

Off to the northeast, there was commotion, but it was too far away for Snag to intervene or act. People fleeing into the trees.

And the Undersiders—he snorted in impatience.

He let himself fall forward, periodically touching ground for the reassurance of it or pushing off of the ground with a hand. As heavy as he was in general, in the outfit he wore, the boots, and the arms that weighed a hundred and ten pounds each, he could feel the ease and flow of movement, the wind rushing through beard and long hair. Power was at his fingertips both through the mechanical arms and the power that let him punch through inorganic things.

His version of the Fallen kid’s power.

He caught up with the Undersiders.